


I know you and I know your heart

by firelord-zuzu-the-jerkbender (fatherlords)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Iroh is a better father than Ozai, Iroh is amazing, M/M, May make you cry, Ozai can get fucked, Tearbending, Unconditional Love, Zuko Needs a Hug, Zuko is sad, rated mature for heavy angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatherlords/pseuds/firelord-zuzu-the-jerkbender
Summary: Zuko comes out of the closet as gay to Uncle Iroh
Kudos: 251





	I know you and I know your heart

Zuko couldn't remember the last time he felt so nervous- or, at least, not this kind of nervous. He was used to being terrified, used to the sinking feeling that something bad was waiting for him whenever he messed up, but this… 

This was different.

This was guttural, raw, and incomparable to other fears- this fear was a beast of its own, and a large one at that.

If this went wrong, Zuko's world, his support network, his only sense of being taken care of, would collapse and implode in on itself. He could lose everything, lose the one person patient enough to believe in him, to not give up on him.

Zuko had known since he was a child that love was conditional. It was all he had known, for the longest time, and cruelty, burning flesh, discarded and abandoned. He craved acceptance, and he couldn't find it anywhere.

Until Iroh, that is. 

Zuko had kept waiting, and he had waited and waited for everything to collapse, for the condition to Iroh's love to be revealed, but it never was. Iroh loved him unconditionally, even when Zuko pushed him away, even when Zuko lashed out- Iroh never yelled at him, never got mad at him, never took his anger out on Zuko or loved him any less for his flaws, and Zuko was terrified of losing that. He was terrified of the thought that Iroh's love, like everybody else's, had conditions. He was scared of losing his uncle's love, of being rejected by family again, of being abandoned. He was scared to see the affection turn to disgust. At least, with his father, his face was always stone, or always angry, no worries about losing love that he was never rewarded in the first place, no worries about losing a love Zuko had been fighting so hard to earn since he was a child. He was so desperate for his father to love him that he didn't notice others loved him too.

Knocking on the door was the hardest thing Zuko had done in a long time, and whilst usually he'd have pushed in before he was told to come in, he waited anyways. "Come in, Prince Zuko." Zuko hesitated, realising that it was too late to back out, that it was finally time to find out if unconditional love was real.

He pushed open the door and walked as normally as he could when he felt like he was walking to his death. He took deep breaths, mouth sealed shut out of fear his breath would come out shaky. Iroh frowned- Zuko had forgotten just how well his uncle could read him, and now the fear was setting in deep. "Would you like any calming tea?" Iroh asked, but he was already gesturing to the space opposite him and pouring a cup. 

Zuko sat down slowly, nausea crawling up and turning him ashen, but the ruddy puce of shame still tinted his cheeks. 

"Uncle, I-..." 

What could he possibly say to him?

I'm gay? I don't like girls? I think I like boys? I didn't have a good date yesterday, because I'm not attracted to girls, and I felt like I was going to be sick the whole time? I'm tired of pretending and forcing myself to try to be normal? I don't think I can bring myself to date girls? I know Mai likes me and father would approve of a marriage because she has a powerful family but if I ever see her again I don't think I can handle a relationship with her? I don't want to be with a girl? I don't want to force myself to pretend I like girls? I don't want to hurt anybody? I don't want to live like this anymore and I don't want to hide it- shouldn't have to… hide it. Hey uncle, I'm gay?

"Uncle, I'm sorry," Zuko choked out instead, "I am so, so sorry!" 

"Why are you sorry, Prince Zuko," Iroh asked carefully, his tone gentle and soft, non-judgmental, ready to hear him out. Iroh always took the time to find out what happened, to hear and listen to Zuko's side of the story, to hear his reasoning. For the longest time, Zuko had thought that it was a trick, that Iroh would yell at him for making excuses, that he would get mad and that he'd punish him dearly for it. Iroh never did.

Zuko opened his mouth to speak, but he found no sound would come out, and it hurt- it hurt because he'd spent so much of his life having his voice taken away from him, having new words planted into his mouth until he believed every lick of venom and every word filled with vitriol his father had thrown at him, and just as he had found his voice- was beginning, to find his voice, his own body, his own mind, ripped it from him.

He sobbed pathetically.

Pathetic was something Zuko had… reclaimed, in a way. After years of being called pathetic by his father, having it spat at him and growled at him and roared at him with a lick of flames, Zuko had believed himself to be weak. He called himself pathetic, because he thought he was weak. But Iroh taught him otherwise. Iroh taught him how pathetic used to mean sensitive, worthy of sympathy. Iroh taught him how it was okay to be sensitive, how it was okay if people had empathy and compassion for you, how it was okay to be emotionally vulnerable and lay it all out. That it was okay to be hurt and sad and reach out and… that Zuko didn't have to pretend to be strong, that it was okay to accept help and compassion.

He still couldn't speak, and he hated it.

"Take your time, nephew," Iroh said gently, "I will still be here when you are ready to talk." Zuko nodded quickly, relieved, and Iroh gestured with his hand for Zuko to drink his tea. 

It was a comfortable silence, because it was a patient silence. With his father, whenever he demanded an explanation with a snappy 'Well?!', Zuko was always left flinching, stumbling over his words unable to get them out; his father would yell and Zuko would confess and his father would yell more. He managed to learn to yell too, yelling back from his chest despite the crippling fear, because it was easier to force the words out, but the more emotional he got, the more his words seemed to slur on his tongue, and the more his father yelled at him to speak properly. Zuko learned to speak slowly and carefully after that. With Iroh, the silence was comfortable, because Iroh was silent to give Zuko the room to become comfortable enough to fill the room with his own voice and his own truth, and Iroh would take that truth to his heart.

Iroh was looking at Zuko with concern and worry, and Zuko was struggling to speak even more.

His father would be so mad at him, so angry, so disgusted. Ever since Zuko was a boy, every time his father mentioned the other countries, other nations and tribes and kingdoms and cities and temples, he always spat out in venomous words of acid how morally corrupt they were, because men kissed men and women kissed women and some people changed gender and how disgusting it was and Zuko had felt so so uneasy and wounded and he never knew why, and now-

"Uncle, I'm sorry…"

He'd internalised it.

"Zuko…"

He needed to unlearn it.

"Uncle, I am so so sorry, I- I'm wrong, Uncle, I'm wrong, please- please tell me I'm wrong," he begged with a whisper, although he wasn't sure what he was begging, pleading for. To be wrong about who he was, or to be told that who he was wasn't acceptable, like he was used to, a bitter-sick comfort from home.

"Zuko," Iroh began softly, his voice almost a whisper, "I can't tell you if you are wrong if you do not tell me what it is that you wish to be wrong about. And even so, it is not my judgment to make, but your own, nephew. Judge yourself wisely, as though you were judging your own child. Would you begrudge them of the niceties of forgiveness that they so desperately deserve?"

"I- I need you to forgive me, uncle," Zuko pleaded desperately, anxiety setting itself deeper at how vulnerable and familiar begging for forgiveness felt, how tight and hot his scar felt to the touch now. 

"What for, Prince Zuko? And know that I already forgive you, for everything you do, because you deserve to give yourself a chance to grow."

"Uncle, I-..." Zuko let out one last loud sob, heart-wrenching pain and exhaustion seeping in. "Uncle… I'm gay." Zuko was met with a brief silence before he couldn't hold back the flood of apologies and excuses. "I'm sorry, Uncle, I'm so sorry, I know I- I'm letting you down, and I know I'm a failure, and I know I'm abhorrent and evil and deviant and dishonourable-"

Zuko felt himself lurching forwards, a strong hand on his shoulder pulling him into a crushing hug, and Zuko just sobbed. "There is nothing to forgive," Iroh said gently, holding him a little tighter, cradling him, almost. "Zuko, there is nothing to forgive, and there is nothing wrong with you. There never was, and there never had been, and there never, ever will be anything wrong with who you are and love. You are not broken, or wrong, or dishonourable."

"Do you still love me?" He asked weakly, eyes closed with fear and sadness, because he was scared to open them to be met with his father's cold, hard face.

"I will never stop loving you, nephew. Never, especially not for this. And I am so, so sorry that you felt unable to tell me until now. You can't even begin to imagine how sorry I am that you've put yourself through so much pain these last few years feeling like you had to hide who you were." Iroh pulled back slightly, so he could look Zuko in the eyes. Zuko let them flutter open for this, tears hot and wet streaking down his face. "Your love is beautiful, my nephew." Iroh pulled him back into the hug, gently smoothing back his hair, cradling him like a child and comforting him like a wounded child and Zuko completely broke down crying.

He broke down crying because that is exactly what he needed to hear. He broke down crying because he could feel his heart healing. He broke down crying because uncle had proved him wrong, but not in the way Zuko had thought. Uncle was telling him that he was wrong about himself, wrong about the hate that he thought he deserved. "What am I going to do, Uncle, I- I can't-..."

"Prince Zuko, there is no shame in finding love. There is no greater form of honour than loving in spite of hate. You, Prince Zuko, are an honourable young boy, who will grow to be an honourable young man, when you learn to accept yourself, and let love into your heart. You can, Prince Zuko. You can love another man and restore your own honour by accepting that only you get to decide who you love, by accepting that the key to your honour is in your dignity, your humility, your intentions, your motivations, and your love, and not within your father's abuse."

"Uncle-" Zuko was going to protest against that word, but he couldn't. 

"Father would be so ashamed, and disgusted, and angry at me."

Iroh hummed in agreement, and Zuko's heart sank. "He would," Iroh agreed, "but his opinion on you, Zuko, will never matter."

"It matters to me," Zuko muttered, "I just want him to accept me, and love me."

"I know this isn't what you want to hear right now," Iroh began softly, carefully, but openly nonetheless; "but he isn't going to accept you, and he isn't going to love you, and he isn't going to restore your honour. And it hurts, I know it hurts, but my Zuko, you deserve better. And I am so, so sorry that he hurt you, and that I wasn't able to stop him from hurting you like he did. He is a cruel man, and what he thinks will never be reflective of who you truly are. I know it matters to you, but it will never bring you peace, and you do not need to base your self worth around him. And Zuko? Your honour cannot be restored by a dishonourable man. Fuck him and his hatred." Zuko couldn't recall a time where Iroh ever swore before.

Zuko sniffled, and cursed: "fuck!"

"I accept you, Nephew," Uncle Iroh said with a gentle kiss to the top of Zuko's head, "and I love you as my own son. I will always, always accept you and love you unconditionally. It would make me very happy to see you find a boy to make you happy too. To see you smile, and look at somebody like they make you happy. To see you loved and to see you accept love into your heart, my nephew. I want you to be happy, Prince Zuko."

"I… I can be happy, uncle?" Zuko's voice was small and vulnerable, and Iroh nodded gently. 

"You can be immensely happy, Prince Zuko. And you never have to hide who you are around me. I will not be uncomfortable or judgmental if you choose to confide in me upon matters of the heart. I will support you, and encourage you, and perhaps tease you for your terrible taste in men."

"Uncle!" Zuko protested, cheeks flushing red, but it brought a small smile to his face. He hadn't anticipated the rush of warm affection and the adrenaline of acceptance, and he let out a wet laugh. It felt like Iroh had pulled down the final walls between Zuko and letting go of his father's hatred, between Zuko and self acceptance, between Zuko's honour and Zuko's identity. He felt so free. He felt so, so free knowing how wholly accepted he was.

"I am… so relieved, that you finally felt able to come out to me, nephew. I was beginning to think you would never fight through your inner turmoil, and I was sad that you felt you had to go through it alone. And I am sorry that I had encouraged you to go out with that girl. I didn't want to out you, and I thought you could do with a friend, and I didn't know how to approach you and let you know that I already knew and accepted you without crossing your boundaries. And I am ashamed that I left it this long to let you know that it was okay to be gay, zuzu."

"You… you knew?" Zuko asked carefully, and Iroh hummed gently. 

"I know you, Prince Zuko. And I know your heart. You pour all of your passion into everything you do, and I noticed when you didn't. I noticed your face fall and I noticed you grow pale and I noticed you fall silent and I noticed you go tense every time your father spoke of things. I noticed how you seemed sad when talking about girls, and how you spoke a little more fondly about boys, and I noticed your heart breaking every time you thought you could never find love. I saw it with my own son, with Lu Ten. I knew you were gay, Prince Zuko, because I always paid attention to you when nobody else ever did; because I cared- and I will always care- for the wellbeing of my little turtleduck, and because I know who you are, and I know you. I know you, nephew. I know your heart is laid out on your sleeve, and I know that it is large, and kind, and genuine, Prince Zuko. I know you, and I'very known you for a long, long time, and I've always known you, and I always will know you, as long as you will let me. I know you, and I accept you."

Zuko cried softly, with relief and grief and a turbulent mix of emotions, because he was loved unconditionally, he was accepted, and he was hopeful for love again. He cried because he felt safe and comfortable with his uncle Iroh. He cried because he'd needed so desperately to hear that his uncle knew him, that he was patient, that he didn't need Zuko to say it to accept him- that his uncle treated him the same no matter who he was. And more importantly, he cried because he needed to. 

It was okay to be gay

Uncle Iroh hummed and sung to him softly, soothing and rocking him sadly. "Leaves from the vine… falling so slow… like fragile tiny shells… drifting in the foam… little soldier boy… come marching home… brave soldier boy… comes marching home..."


End file.
